


Reprise

by doctoroftime (saltyhealer)



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alpha Timeline, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2011-12-05
Updated: 2011-12-05
Packaged: 2017-10-26 23:18:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 967
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/288985
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/saltyhealer/pseuds/doctoroftime
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You wake up in a hospital room with machines beeping around you and the gentle breeze of the open window pressing insistently at your eyes. At your bedside, a blonde doctor smiles at you and is relieved you've woken up. She calls you David and your mouth is too dry to answer.</p><p>Your name is Dave Strider and you can't remember anything.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Reprise

Your name is Dave Strider.

At least that’s what the doctors have told you. The blonde one that’s only around once in a while, but you know she watches because her perfume always lingers, calls you David though. You don’t really mind that name because Dave Strider is a decent title and when you hear it you feel like it’s a name you deserve.

The doctors, besides christening you, tell you that you were found in the middle of the Texan desert in a large hole. Clearly you were sent from the gods, you joke and the doctors all give you looks that say you should be in a different kind of hospital. Save the blonde one who smells of rancid, sweet peaches. She smiles, like you’ve made her proud. You decide that, despite feeling looked down on, belittled and young by that twinge of a smirk, that you kind of like the way she smiles. It seems like something she does rarely and there’s a sense of achievement in making a broad’s face crack into a smile and you like a challenge. Or at least you’re starting to.

For the first week, you are confined to your room. You become acquainted with the nurses who are all eager to talk to you and you can’t blame them because, well, you can’t remember exactly why, but you know that if your door wasn’t monitored, you’d wake up with a bed-full of nurses. Besides the nurses, your only activities besides half-sleeping is being treated to a diet of weird hospital food but every so often the blond doctor slips you an apple juice.

You obviously don’t thank her because you feel like she’s treating you like a child and the condescension is practical as palatable as her perfume. At the same time, you love yourself some apple juice.

As the dosages in your medications go down and you start to become more coherent, you now have time to ask questions instead of staring outside as the leaves flutter in a small wind. So you ask the blond doctor as her eyes travel over the charts at the end of your bed. “How do you know who I am?”

She looks up and you see her lips tighten slightly. “You had a wallet on you when you were found.”

“Then I had stuff on me,” you answer easily and by the way you see the edges of her jaw twitch, you know that this isn’t what she wanted to hear. You chalk up a point to yourself for no particular reason. “I’m allowed to have them, right?”

“I suppose,” she murmurs, straightening smoothly and exiting the room without another word.

When she returns, it is with the strangest collection of items you’ve ever seen. She lays them out on your bed and you shift your feet away, watching the items jumble together.

The first thing she passes you is half of a sword. Your fingers run over the detailed hilt and then the edge. You almost prick your finger but something warns you and you manage to skim it over the edge of the blade without incident. There’s a margin of success in that, you think. Letting it rest across your lap, you look up expectantly.

She hands you a small stuffed rabbit and it is the most wrecked thing you’ve ever seen and you wonder how it can exist in a hospital where everything here is so clean. “I really had this on me?” You say after a while, finger prodding at the beady little eye and a shiver runs through your spine. You definitely do not like that eye boring into your soul.

“Yes, the police report said you were clutching it to your chest.” You expect a tone of scorn but it doesn’t come and you can’t figure out what she’s feeling and you frown at that. “Also, your wallet.”

The doctor hands you a small wallet. Inside, there is a five and two dollar bills, a card for a grocery store you’ve never heard of, a few phone numbers, remains of a song hastily scribbled on a napkin and a driver’s licence. You pull that out and look at the kid in the picture. You touch your hair and take not that your bangs are longer now and your cheeks are a little thinner. Turning it over, you look at the details before sliding it back.

“This is all I had?” You say and flip the wallet shut.

“Well,” the doctor quietly reaches into the deep pocket of her white coat and holds out a pair of aviators, “these are your sunglasses.” The way she says _yours_ makes you blink and she holds them out. They glint in the sunlight streaming in from the summer day outside. You put down whatever you were holding and you feel your face making some expression that you can’t put a finger on. She notices and you turn your face down to inspect the sunglasses closely.

After the silence passes of you just staring because something in wrong here, the doctor speaks up. “You were wearing them when you were found-“

“It’s weird,” you interrupt her and you are turning the sunglasses around and around in your hands because they feel so fucking right. “But I knew that. Because everything was dark when I woke up. I was looking at the sun and it wasn’t hurting my eyes. I wasn’t going blind.”

You put on your sunglasses

Your name is Dave Strider and you have a broken sword that you know your muscles remember how to use, a dirty-ass bunny that feels like the most important item you've ever had for no reason and sunglasses that make you feel like you deserve the name.

Besides that, you have nothing.


End file.
